


The Apples

by Luluthechoosingcrow



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, Confusion, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Past Quentin Coldwater/Alice Quinn, Past William "Penny" Adiyodi/Quentin Coldwater - Freeform, Penny is pretty soft here, accidental Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23711050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luluthechoosingcrow/pseuds/Luluthechoosingcrow
Summary: It was all in the apple. If only he hadn't been holding it... but, was marriage really that bad? Penny was surprisingly calm for someone who had just proposed to a nerd he had hated four months ago. Maybe everything would be alright.
Relationships: William "Penny" Adiyodi/Quentin Coldwater
Comments: 12
Kudos: 85





	The Apples

**Author's Note:**

> Taking a break from my other Penntin fic to write this one -- it was one of those amazing daydreams us writers have that rarely get written down, but I thought this was worth getting out of bed and typing up. I should note that I decided to really diverge from canon because it just makes sense for this to be happening under different circumstances than what actually did. So, Julia managed to kill Reynard and the Beast, Penny's hands never got fucked up, the wellspring was replenished, and both Alice and Kady are more or less out of the picture, romantically. Enjoy!

Quentin sighed and warmed his hands on the fire in front of him. He looked up at the night sky in between the tree tops and grinned, wondering how he managed to land himself such a great life in  _ Fillory _ of all places. It was so unbelievable, and yet he had never been more awake. Maybe it was the opium air. 

He snorted and took a bite of the apple in his hand, gazing around the fire at the four other men with him. Penny was busy roasting some pheasants he had caught, an orange glow reflecting his concentrated, furrowed eyebrows. The other three were servants of the castle - his servants, technically - that had come along to help with their quest. 

“We should reach the edge of the woods by noon,” one of them said. Quentin was pretty sure his name was Malke.

Penny grunted and shook his head. “If you’d just let me travel us there…”

“You know we can’t. There’s old magic ruins there, the wards are still up and we’ll bounce off. Have to go back to the beginning.”

Penny and Quentin eyed each other for a minute before the other man grumbled and conceded, going back to the birds he was slowly turning with magic over the fire. Quentin sat back and took another bite of his apple, then accepted a sip of wine from Malke’s flask. The stars twinkled and the trees rustled softly; he let the night’s atmosphere enveloped him.

He jerked and looked up when his knee was tapped. Penny had finished with the pheasants, apparently, and had a bit of the meat speared on the dagger he had been using to pare them. Quentin eyed it suspiciously but Penny just chuckled and shook his head, urging the food closer to his face. 

“Trust me, white boy, it’s not gonna kill you. The yellow is turmeric powder. Try it.”

Quentin sighed and did as was prompted. He leaned forward and took a bite, moaning a little as flavor exploded on his tongue. 

“Wow, that’s good,” Quentin mumbled, mouth still full. 

Penny grinned and nodded, picking off a piece for himself to try. He groaned his own approval and gave another bite to Quentin, snorting and brushing his thumb over his cheek when a bit of food got on it. 

Quentin blushed and looked away, a warm feeling running through his veins. He knew that Penny was just messing with him - he flirted with everyone, and especially loved to make himself squirm - but that didn’t stop the pleasantness of the action. But it didn’t matter; they were finally becoming friends, and he wasn’t going to ruin that. 

“Full moon tonight. Think we’ll run into any werewolves?” Penny asked, tilting his head up to look at the sky where a brightly glowing moon shone in between the trees. 

“Hope not, I don’t really want to hear anymore complaints to bring back to court.”

Penny laughed. Everyone they ran into seemed to notice Quentin’s crown right away and asked him to do something -- about their crops, their children’s education, the mice in hats invading their house. There had been some weird problems. But Quentin had heard it all graciously, and dutifully wrote them down in a notebook to deal with when they got back to Whitespire castle. 

He was trying his hardest to be a good king and do the right things, but he was also tired. They’d been on this quest for a specific type of berry bush for several days now, and he already had four pages full of requests and complaints. Everyone seemed to have a million problems to fix and no directions to the berries. Quentin couldn’t say he blamed them; Fillory had been fucked over by The Beast for a long time, and there was a lot that needed to be fixed. Plus, the berries only had one specific, uncommon use, so he supposed that most people ignored them. 

“Lighten up, man. We’ll find the fucking berries,” Penny sighed, quickly tugging a strand of Quentin’s hair like he did when he was getting tired of listening to moping. “Come on, you need to get your mind off of everything. Drink.”

Penny handed him his own flask - full of smuggled in Earth scotch - and Quentin took it, getting a good mouthful. He watched as Penny started the motions for a fireworks spell and joined in, that warm feeling growing inside of him again. They really were becoming good friends; Penny would never have tried to cheer him up a couple months, or maybe even weeks, ago. But now they were sitting side by side, eating pheasant off each other’s knives, sharing alcohol, and watching the mini fireworks display above the fire.

He rolled the apple in his hand and took another swallow, trying to reconcile the uncomfortableness in his gut with the delicious taste. It didn’t add up; the bird was good, he was happy, and Penny was actively being friendly with him. There was nothing wrong, except -- this was the feeling of being watched. 

He worriedly gazed around for spying eyes in the trees and realized that everything was very still. The servants had stopped talking and moving quite a while ago and were staring at them strangely. Quentin tried to subtly nudge Penny with his mind, gaining a glare for the detested Taylor Swift song then a worried look as the man also realized. 

“Uh, guys? Is everything good?” 

Malke coughed and cleared his throat. “Of course, Your Highness. It’s just that- well, I mean… are you certain, Sire?”

Quentin could only guess that he was nervous about the quest and he relaxed. No one in Fillory had been on anything like an adventure for a long time; afraid of the beast, kept to their small homes and villages by a desperate lack of resources as magic unknowingly withered away. He smiled, big, and tried to reassure them. 

“Yes! I’ve never been more sure about anything. It will go great, and life will be much better once this happens.”

“He’s a good king, he knows what’s best,” Penny added on. Quentin figured he had caught the thought of what was happening from his still open mind. “Sometimes things can be uncomfortable if they’re unfamiliar, but we do what we have to for the good of the kingdom.”

Penny sat back after his turn at inspiring the men and gnawed at a wing. He shot Quentin a look, understanding (or so they thought) passing through both of them. He held out a pheasant thigh and Quentin gladly took it, nudging him for real this time with his shoulder. 

“You could be a good king, too. I feel inspired by that. I’d follow you anywhere.”

“Yeah, well,” Penny laughed, “You’ve always followed me around, even when I didn’t want you to. Like a little lost puppy, Coldwater, sulking right behind me and complaining when I told you to fuck off.”

“Hey, look where it lead us!”

“True,” Penny conceded with another nod. He tossed his bone on to the fire and watched the remaining string of fat sizzle. A waft of smoke blew into their faces and they both turned their heads.

Quentin looked down at the forgotten apple in his hand and brought it to his mouth, taking a large bite. He never would have thought that magically grown purple apples and tumeric pheasant would make a good meal, but a lot of things weren’t as he was expecting anymore. All of Fillory, for example. 

“You know, I’m glad you don’t hate me anymore,” he said quietly, turning to look at the man sitting next to him. 

Penny met his eyes, an almost sorry look in his own. “I never hated you. Hearing you singing all the damn time, sure, and you get on my nerves, but… you’re not bad. All things considered, I like where we are now. I’m glad this is happening,” he said, referring to their growing friendship and the list of epic quests they were slowly collecting under their belts. 

“Me too.”

Quentin realized that Malke and the other two servants were staring at them, still, but it looked to be more out of respect and some odd, growing happiness than uncertainty. Weird, but good. How long had that been happening? Since he’d been king, or just starting now?

He kept getting so distracted by Penny that everything else seemed to fade into the background; it was never a feeling he had gotten with just a friend before, but it wasn’t bad. Maybe dangerous, in high-risk situations, but he could probably turn it off. Besides, Penny was observant enough for the both of them. 

“Doesn’t mean you still don’t have to try, Q,” he whispered.

Quentin grinned and looked back up at the stars. 

\----------

“Uh, hey, can we talk?” Quentin asked, poking his head around the corner into the Armory.

Penny looked up from his book and sighed. He marked his page with a strip of ribbon and set it onto a stack of more leather-bounds he had obviously been perusing. The Armory was slowly and surely being built up again after its contents had been ransacked by The Beast; citizens who had taken a book or two for safe keeping returned them, Brakebills gave up a few extra copies, and new volumes of knowledge were even being written. It was a place the whole group ended up in quite often, for its resources and relative solitude. 

Quentin walked inside and cautiously sat down on one of the wooden chairs they had moved in there. He gazed at the materials Penny had spread around him -- a modern notebook and pen, yellow sticky notes, the royal symbol on a sash that let him access the Armory, and five books on Fillorian customs. 

“So you know, then,” he sighed. 

Penny nodded his head, containing the grimace his face wanted to make to just a slight scowl. 

Quentin didn’t mind; it was a  _ huge _ improvement to how they used to interact. Their first few months of knowing each other had been rough in many ways, particularly involving Penny’s anger and Quentin’s cowering personality. They had clashed on a near daily basis in a volatile way that just left them both more resentful. 

He couldn’t pinpoint what exactly had changed when, but the fights had become less frequent and less extreme recently. It seemed they had both realized the size of their problems with each other was much, much smaller than the size of the problems with the worlds at large. Their quests together had certainly helped too, as had getting drunk and stumbling through the halls hanging off of each other’s shoulders on an almost weekly basis. 

Too bad it might not last.

“Did you know that’s what it was?” Penny asked him. There was a slightly accusing look in his eyes, like Quentin had just let him (possibly) fuck up their lives without sayng anything.

He shook his head quickly. “No, no, of course not! It wasn’t in the books, I had no clue that was a thing.” 

Penny sighed and nodded, silently passing his notebook to Quentin so he could see his research. 

At the top of the page, it read “Fillorian Marriage Customs” in big letters. Underneath, there were outline-style notes on various concepts that would hopefully help them figure out the whole mess they had accidentally gotten into. 

Quentin looked over the most important section -- Marriage Proposals. He brushed his hands over the smooth paper and read aloud from Penny’s surprisingly nice handwriting. 

“Four common ways of proposing: classical arranged marriage through parents, asking for political marriage, bargaining, or proposal ceremony.”

“That’s what we did,” Penny interjected quietly. 

Quentin looked up to find the man closer to him than he expected. His breath caught in his throat as he watched dust and sunlight glint on Penny’s long lashes, his whole face awash from the window so he looked like glowing caramel. 

Penny took the notebook back and explained, not seeming to notice Quentin’s staring -- or maybe just being used to him “spazzing out”, as he often said. 

“A proposal ceremony is this complicated, really fucking odd ritual that is traditionally done between two high-ranking magicians, apparently. During a full moon they have to share food, then share wine, and then perform magic together in front of three witnesses, all while the recipient of the marriage proposal holds an apple. Which we did.”

“In fucking order. God,” Quentin sighed, slumping back into the chair. 

He wasn’t sure what to think. On one hand, he wanted to immediately call it off because  _ obviously  _ they weren’t romantically involved and it wouldn’t be a good idea. On the other hand, the servants had gossiped and now practically the entire kingdom knew. Calling it off could be really bad press. Quentin could still hear Margo’s voice in his head as she pulled him aside to chastise him about something he didn’t understand in the moment; “The  _ apple _ , Q, the fucking apple. You idiot. Make a decision, and make it fast.” Then she strutted away with her long, pink dress swishing around her legs. It had left him in a daze of confusion until he’d heard some guards chatting as they made their rounds -- and then everything had started to make horrifying sense.

Penny snapped him out of his thoughts, like he always seemed to do. “So, we need to talk about this. Dinner?”

A level conversation from Penny was not what he had been expecting, but Quentin took it. He also took the offered hand to pull himself up, helping Penny clean up the space before they pulled the heavy doors shut behind themselves and parted ways, agreeing to meet back up at the castle gates. From there, Penny traveled them to a tavern that had become one of their favorites.

They ordered food and beer, settling down against the rough bark of a large tree right outside. The sun was just setting and the air was still warm, so they sat in silence and watched the sky darken; both thinking. 

A bar wench brought their food and Quentin took a drought out of his cup, trying to ignore the eyes she was making at Penny. 

“Alright. So, uh…” He trailed off, uncertain of what to actually say. What were they supposed to do about the situation? There were so many variables, and yet so few options and even less time. Margo had warned him about the deadline for cancelling before it became absolutely politically devastating; Fillorians did  _ not _ take divorces (or ended engagements) lightly. 

Penny cracked a wry smile like he knew what Quentin was thinking - he probably did - and chugged his beer, setting down the empty stein on the grass. He wiped his mouth and trained his eyes on the emerging stars. 

“We have two options: be married for the rest of our lives, or not.”

Quentin snorted. “Well, when you put it that way. I mean, why not?”

“Yeah. Seriously.”

“Wait, what? Really?”

He turned to look at Penny -- that was supposed to be sarcastic. The other man was staring straight up at the rising moon, eyes stealy but voice soft. He didn’t sound like he was kidding. 

“Really?” Quentin tried again, matching his voice to the one Penny had used. “You see marriage as an option? You know that it’s lifelong and monogamous, right?”

“I know. And yes, it is technically an option. You don’t wanna marry me, Coldwater?”

He faltered. “Well, I mean- okay, yes it is an option. And yes, I kind of don’t want to marry you. We have about a day to call it off.”

Penny looked at him strangely, and it was all Quentin could do to look at the sky and eat his stew. What was he thinking? It was times like these where he wished he had the psychic powers Penny did. 

“Trust me, you don’t.” And his wards hadn’t been up, great. “But  _ why _ don’t you want to marry me? We’ve been getting along.”

If he wasn’t mistaken, Penny sounded almost offended. Not mockingly indignant - he knew he was hot - but actually a little upset, like he had been considering the marriage. 

“I have. It’s a viable option.”

“Stop reading my fucking mind!”

“Then close it!” Penny snapped right back, crowding Quentin against the tree so suddenly he couldn’t breath. 

They were both breathing hard, worked up with worry and lust and thoughts of the future. Quentin stared at Penny, trying to read the look in his eyes; what was he thinking? About all of this? A sudden kiss was pressed to his lips and then Penny’s face was back in front of him like it had never left, staring intently. 

Quentin sighed and tipped his head back. He could still smell the beer on both of them, and feel the brush of Penny’s beard -- it was more pleasant than he would have thought. Penny’s eyes slowly closed as their foreheads were pressed together. He understood a little bit more now. 

“Say we did get married. Are you really willing to be celibate, or only have sex with me, for the rest of your life? And what about Kady?”

He thought that Penny might get angry - bringing up his ex-girlfriend usually did the trick - but he only shook his head. “Kady isn’t coming back. Or, if she is, I’m moving on. Too much happened. Besides,” he said, opening his eyes and smiling until Quentin felt his knees shake, “I’d have you. I don’t know what it is, but something is telling me that I actually wouldn’t mind it that much. You’re not bad looking, Q.”

He knew he was blushing, but Penny also looked like he wasn’t sure why he said what he had, so it was fine. This whole marriage and friendship business with Penny was odd and confusing but it was also really, honestly fine. 

“I don’t think I wouldn’t mind either. I mean, we’re actually pretty similar.”

“What?” Penny scoffed, “How? Have you taken another walk in the flying forest, Q?”

The Penny he usually knew was still in there; that was good. Quentin shrugged his shoulders in the small space he had between the tree and his fiance (and that was crazy). “Well, we’re both magicians, and we more or less discovered Fillory together. We both like beer and food, and traveling, and our friends, and I know that you like some nerdy shit underneath all of that tough guy-ness. And, we’re both getting over stone-cold girlfriends, so.”

So, we should get married, he thought with a quirk of his eyebrows. Penny’s eyelids lowered in agreement and he leaned in again, asking for another kiss. 

Quentin granted the request, slotting their lips together. It was nice -- warm, stew-flavoured, slow and gentle in a way he enjoyed more than he could have guessed. Penny was constantly surprising him, his soft kisses being even the least of the things Quentin was discovering about him. 

“Husband,” he whispered, pulling back. 

“Not quite yet,” Penny rejoined, giving him one more peck before standing tall like the tree they had been resting on. 

He smiled and stood up, helping Penny gather their bowls and cups to bring back inside. It wasn’t going to be smooth going, falling into a romantic relationship and then  _ marrying _ so soon after being almost enemies. But he was willing to try, for the good of his country (they liked monarchs in stable marriages) and for the good of his personal life. Penny could make him happy, he thought, and he would try, too. 

“Hey, Q, we need to have apple pie at the wedding,” Penny whispered in his ear, leaning down to give him a smooch on the cheek before striding away. Quentin grinned without restraint and followed after him like the puppy he was. 


End file.
